


Mr. Lancer and the Worst Saturday Detention Ever.

by Leftmyheartinthetardis



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: High School, Mentors, Other, Students, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teen Angst, Understanding, near future AU, non phantom planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:46:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leftmyheartinthetardis/pseuds/Leftmyheartinthetardis
Summary: 17-year old Danny Fenton, high school junior, is stuck in detention. On a Saturday. When he really should be out catching a rogue mercenary.Mr. Logan Lancer, English teacher, is monitoring detention. On a Saturday. And all he really wants out of it is to break through to his students.A story about change, understanding, and the ever-growing chaos of the universe.





	1. Just Another Saturday

Logan Lancer pulled into his usual parking spot, turned off the radio, and removed the keys from the ignition. It was quiet and almost peaceful, sitting in his car in front of Casper High on a Saturday. The contrast between Casper during the work week and Casper on the weekends was something he never thought he would get over. For as long as he had been teaching, and he had been teaching for a while, he was intrigued by the way a place holding so much stress during the week could feel so peaceful once the bell rang on Friday afternoon. Sighing, he glanced down at his watch. _8:00_. He was late for detention.

Saturday detentions were, in his personal opinion, cruel and unusual punishment. He wouldn’t tell the administration that because he wanted to keep his job, but he did make a point of never assigning them. Yet here he was. Even though he did not give out any Saturday detentions, he quite often found himself monitoring them. It was, at the end of the day, a little extra money to be saved, a little extra time to focus on grading, a little extra time where he could potentially reach a student.

For the most part the Saturday detention monitor role was fairly simple. Every so often he would get some rowdy kids or students who didn’t get along, but normally it was quiet. He could sit and do his work and the student or students would sit and read or erase small white boards or pencil marks from books. Generally, he tried to be compassionate with them; talk to them maybe, try and understand why they were there. Sometimes it worked and students would open up. Sometimes it didn’t. As long as he made an effort to understand them, that was all that mattered.

At 8:01, he entered the classroom. The room was empty except for one desk in the front row near the windows where his detainee was slumped over, snoring slightly. Immediately he recognized the dark hair and somewhat scrawny figure of 17-year-old junior Danny Fenton.

“Good morning, Mr. Fenton.”

“Huh? Uh, what?” Danny woke up with start, his panicked eyes scanning his surroundings before he remembered where he was. “Oh, hi Mr. Lancer. Long time no see.”

“Yes, indeed,” Mr. Lancer agreed, sitting down at the desk in front of the room. It really was long time no see, he realized. Sure, he had seen Danny in the hall or by his locker, but this was the first time in two years he didn’t have him in one of his classes. “It seems some whiteboards have been left for you to clean, Mr. Fenton. I would advise you take care of those before returning to your rest.”

Danny nodded and retrieved the pile of dirty white boards from the front of the room along with a rag and a spray bottle full of water. Quietly he sat down and got to work.

As Danny worked, Mr. Lancer spared the occasional glance towards him. Of all the kids to pass through his classroom, Danny was hardest to understand. And he wasn’t always like that, he realized. About halfway through his freshman year something about him changed. It was most obvious during the vegan cafeteria incident, where Danny had started a food fight and gotten his first detention. But even before that, he had been able to tell something was off.

He did know about a month before the cafeteria fight there had been an accident of sorts in the Fenton Laboratory. Nothing was ever confirmed, but the rumors all involved Danny. And even if there wasn’t an accident or if Danny wasn’t involved, it was around when the happy, focused, 14-year old started changing. It was little things at first, like being tired or late for class. But then it didn’t stop, and at times it seemed his dark under-eye circles were stained onto his skin. He got jumpy and fidgety, his focus everywhere but the classroom. His grades fell and detentions served rose. But still, at the end of the day, he pulled through, passed the course, served his detentions. Despite the evidence to the contrary, Mr. Lancer did really believe that Danny was a good kid. He just had some stuff to figure out.

Forty-five minutes passed with the silence of an empty school being broken only by the scratch of Mr. Lancer’s pen on some papers and the occasional squeak of the rag on a white board.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat, “So, Mr. Fenton, what brings you to detention on this fine day?” He knew that he had to be direct with Danny, that the kid didn’t like it when people beat around the bush trying to talk to him. He also knew Danny didn’t love opening up, but he could at least try.

“I was late for one too many of Mrs. Hall’s pre-calc classes,” He said, a frustrated look crossing his face. “And when she confronted me about it I told her the truth: there were more important things to do.”

Mr. Lancer raised his eyebrows, surprised and a little impressed at the boy’s gall. “More important than pre-calculus?”

“Yep.”

“Understandable,” He replied. Danny, for all he was worth, couldn’t understand what Mr. Lancer meant by that. He couldn’t really be agreeing that there were more important things than his pre-calculus class, could he? Distracted, he returned to cleaning white boards.

Poor kid, Mr. Lancer thought. Mrs. Hall was a stickler, a real traditionalist. She was old and withered and lacked any understanding of what adolescence these days entailed, and Danny was her victim simply because he told her his truth.

And, little did Mr. Lancer know, the fact that Danny had had something more important than his pre-calc class was true, and he still had the slight ecto-burn to prove it. It wasn’t his fault that some mean-spirited poltergeist had decided to mess with the Amity Park Hospital during the middle of a school day. And it wasn’t as if he could have just allowed the ghost to go around and wreak havoc on the doctors and patients there. So during lunch he had slipped away, transforming into Danny Phantom, and left to put that poltergeist back where it belonged.

The fight had been, unfortunately, messier and harder than he expected. Fighting a ghost out in an open field? Simple. Fighting a ghost in a downtown area? Little more complicated, but doable. Fighting a ghost is a crowded and fully functioning hospital? Yeah, not so easy. Because aside from ensuring he didn’t get his own ass beat, he had to make sure all the bystanders were safe. And to complicate things, his parents- Amity Park’s best ghost hunters- showed up just in time for the end of the fight. The poltergeist was taken care of. Danny Phantom, on the other hand, was not. And his parent’s new ecto-blaster left a mark.

He knew it wasn’t their fault, not really. If he had just told them right off the bat “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. Guess what? I died and became a half-ghost!” Then he wouldn’t have this problem. But he didn’t.

Instead, he just tried his best to stay out of their way. They really did, he eventually realized, hate Danny Phantom. At this point he wasn’t sure if the knowledge that Danny Phantom was really their own son, their own Danny Fenton, would change anything. Ghosts were ghosts, in their eyes. And Danny Phantom was a ghost like no other.

So, naturally, after that, he was late to class. And, yeah, he had been doing something more important than pre-calc. He had been up all night doing things more important than pre-calc too. Now he just wanted sleep.

Mr. Lancer took a sip of his coffee. Or, he tried to. Looking down at his empty cup he decided he most definitely would need more. There was still 3 hours left of detention. He knew he could trust Danny not to run off while he grabbed more coffee from the teachers’ lounge, and realized that the poor kid looked so tired he probably didn’t even have the energy to try and make a break for it. Decided, he got up, told Danny he would be back in five and went to start the coffee pot.

Once Mr. Lancer had shut the door behind him, Danny slammed his head down on the desk with a defeated moan. God, he was tired. And his head hurt. And his side. And basically his entire body. And so, so, tired. Normally his sleep schedule was bad but this week was, well, really bad.

There had been, his friend Tucker had calculated, a 47% increase in spectral activity this week. That happened sometimes, random spikes in activity or portal openings. But 47% was a bit excessive. He needed to investigate inside the Ghost Zone, talk to some of the less likely to try and destroy him spirits, see what was going on.

_What you need is more rest,_ a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered.

Normally he would just tell himself to shut up, but…no. He did need to rest. And to eat. And to basically recharge. The whole mechanics of being both dead and alive at the same time made the whole existing thing difficult. There were rules he was always learning about his own physical limits and capabilities, and rules he was always forgetting to follow or choosing to ignore. At one point his enemy Vlad had tried, unsuccessfully, to instill in him the importance of maintaining balance between the ghost and human parts of him. Seeing as the advice came from Vlad, Danny tried his best to ignore it.

But the last thing he needed was word somehow getting out in the Ghost Zone that he was not at peak performance, so he needed to get back to his prime. No exploring the Ghost Zone tonight or tomorrow, he decided. Rest.

It had been last night’s battle that had really knocked the wind out of him. Sure, he had already been a little banged up from the week but it wasn’t excessive. Nope. What really got him was his opponent. Danny thought back to the night before and groaned, placing his head in his hands, mentally running through what had happened and trying to figure out why he felt like absolute shit. He didn’t know the ghost who attacked him. From what he could tell his attacker was some sort of mercenary. They were heavily armed and knew what they were doing. Danny never got a good look at their face as it was hidden under a mask. To make things worse, he had no idea who sent him. Plus, since Danny had gotten away, chances are since they were going to come back to try and finish the job.

It was really nothing short of dumb luck that he got away. The merc had hit him with something strange, a weapon Danny hadn’t experienced before. When he was hit two things happened. The first was he was blasted way farther away from the fight than he would have expected, eventually crashing into some ghost island he had never visited. That was the lucky part. The second thing was much more worrying. The moment the beam hit him he phased, turning back into his human half. And he was exhausted. The beam hadn’t just shorted out his powers, it had zapped his energy too. It took about 5 hours for his energy to recover enough to change back and head home, but even that took way more out of him than it should have. Whatever kind of weapon the mercenary had, Danny did not want to encounter it again. Ever.

Unfortunately for him, the universe was rarely so kind.

Danny was just about to close his eyes for a minute, just to try and grab an extra spot of rest before Mr. Lancer returned, when he felt a familiar chill and saw his breath in the air around him, cold and ever so slightly blue.

“Really? Are we going to do this now?” He asked to whoever was around him and setting off his ghost sense. Determined, he stood up and looked around the room. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew- his ghost sense knew- that he wasn’t alone.

“I don’t have time for this so if you could just like…I don’t know, show yourself or something? Yeah, that would be great.” Silence. Danny exhaled, his breath again visible and tinged blue. He was about to just sit back down and ignore whoever it was when suddenly a voice spoke directly into his ear.

“Gladly,”

The next thing Danny knew he was sprawled on the ground, his back against Mr. Lancer’s desk. The jerk had kicked him. Hard. It was time to fight back. Springing to his feat Danny yelled his token catch-phrase.

“I’m going ghost!”

Immediately he was awash in a blueish white light, encircling his body as his ghostly form took over. A second later white haired, green eyed, Danny Phantom stood in his place. And standing 15 feet in front of him was one of the last ghosts he wanted to see at that moment, the mercenary from the night before.

“Make it quick, Murder Mystery, because today I definitely don’t have time for this!” He yelled, directing a blast of ecto-energy at his attacker. The mercenary dodged, unsheathing a blaster as they did so and firing at Danny. Danny dodged in response, but not fast enough. He hissed in pain as a stray blast grazed his shoulder, tearing his suit and leaving a burn mark. Angered, he flew in to land a blow on his attacker’s face, only to find them intangible. Unable to stop his momentum Danny tumbled over himself and crashed into a desk, instinctively rolling out of the way of another shot from the blaster. Turning intangible, he sank from the floor and appeared behind his attacker.

“What’s your deal, dude? Who sent you,” He asked, hitting them square in the chest with a large blast of ecto-energy. He made a mental note to himself, for about the thousandth time, that his questions could not be answered if he knocked the wind out his opponent as soon as he asked them. Oops.

The attacker slammed into the blackboard, denting the metal ledge used to hold the chalk. White dust filled the air and made breathing momentarily harder. Danny used the momentary distraction to glance at the clock.

_Shit_.

Four minutes had passed. Lancer was due to be back soon, any second really. For all Danny knew he could be coming down the hall right now. There were footsteps and the turn of a door handle. His attacker rose from where they’d been thrown and looked Danny directly in the eyes.

“I am at no liberty to reveal information about my employer,” the mercenary (Ha, Danny thought, I had been right!) began, “Just know that I am Cain, and my services are only requested by the highly powerful and highly twisted. Remember this and fear for your existence as I bring you to my employer.”

The mercenary's, Cain’s, voice was cold and hard. It was neither masculine nor feminism, and it did not quake or waiver. It did not even truly sound like a voice, Danny thought, it was like metal being scraped against rock or fingernails being dragged down a chalkboard. It made him want to pull his ears from his head so he would no longer have to hear it. Reflexively, he went to cover his ears with his hands, not realizing until too late that Cain had used his distraction to draw a different blaster. Danny recognized this blaster from the night before, it was the strange one, the one that zapped his energy and shorted out his abilities. Fear overtook him and he attempted to run, but couldn’t. Not before Cain pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

 

 

Logan Lancer made his way down the hall and unlocked the door to the teacher’s lounge. Brewing a pot of coffee would take too long, he decided, so he made his way towards the Keurig.  The invention of the quick-brewing single serve coffee make really was a miracle for teachers everywhere, he decided, placing his coffee cup under the dispenser and selecting the middle size. While waiting for the coffee to finish warming and dispensing he leaned against the counter, staring absent-mindedly at the wall.

It was, like all the walls in Casper High, a cinder block wall painted off-white. This particular cinder block wall also happened to have posters taped up every few feet. They were, for the most part, the typical motivational poster one would expect to find in a high school, bought from teacher’s supply stores or printed off the internet. Things like “Mistakes are proof that you are trying!” and “You can’t be a smart cookie with a crumbly attitude!” and “Why fit in when you were born to stand out?” But the most interesting ones were the (assumed to be) custom posters. Assumed to be custom because, well, posters like “Science beats Specters!” and “There’s nothing ghoulish about a good book!” and “Ghosts! You too can outsmart them,” just wouldn’t sell outside of Amity Park’s bubble of ghost madness.

And Mr. Lancer hated them. At least, he hated the normal ones. The ghost ones he was indifferent towards. They normal ones, however, were clichéd and clearly made by someone who hadn’t stepped foot in a high school in a long time.

The Keurig beeped and pulled Mr. Lancer back to reality, the smell of coffee once again taking over his senses. Ready to return to detention, he grabbed his mug, turned off the lights, locked the door, and headed back down the hall.

He was rounding the final corner when he heard the first crash.

It sounded like a wet sack of flour hitting the floor, accompanied by the all too familiar screech of desks scraping across tile. This was followed by a flash of green light, streaking through the window of a classroom door.

A split second later, Mr. Lancer realized. It wasn’t just a classroom door; it was his classroom door.

Another flash of green, followed by a yell and a crash.

And he had left Danny inside.

Dropping his coffee mug, Mr. Lancer sprinted down the hall towards the fighting. Ghosts, he said to himself, it always had to be ghosts. He could recognize an ectoblast anywhere. His only hope was that Danny had somehow gotten away. If he was hurt (or worse) it was his fault. One of the rules for detention monitors was to never leave the student unattended, but he had left. And now there was a ghost.

Skidding to a halt in front of the door, Mr. Lancer grabbed the handle and threw the door open.

Panic washed over him as he stepped over the threshold. There was a battle happening. He couldn’t see his student anywhere. Instead he had walked right in on a confrontation between some spirit he had never seen before and Amity Park’s resident superhero/public nuisance/public enemy/ghost boy, Danny Phantom. The pair were so focused on each other they didn’t even seem to notice Mr. Lancer’s presence. 

A horribly metallic and warped voice was speaking “-fear for your existence as I bring you to my employer!” Followed immediately by some sort of weapons fire.

There was a bright flash of light and an agonized yell. It was a familiar yell. It was Danny Fenton’s yell.

_“NO!”_

Mr. Lancer yelled and charged the rest of the way into the room. He didn’t see Danny Fenton, but he knew he had heard him. And he knew that monster with the weapon had hurt him. He also knew exactly what he needed to do.

At some point in the fight his desk had been knocked aside, and lying on the ground he saw exactly what he needed- a pocket-sized single use Fenton thermos. Enraged, he picked it up, pointed it at the ghost, and pushed the button. In only a matter of seconds the spirit was gone, sucked into the thermos.

For a moment he just stood there, breathing heavy. He had confiscated that particular thermos over a year ago from Jasmin, of all people. But the thought of Jasmin Fenton snapped him back to the disaster at hand.

“Danny? Daniel Fenton?” He shouted, scanning the room. There was no sign of the boy, and he could only hope that he had escaped. Danny was smart, he knew about ghosts, he reassured himself. He must have just-

Mr. Lancer’s thoughts were interrupted by a low groan from the back of the classroom. “Danny?” He asked, quickly heading towards the source of the noise.

No.

It was the ghost boy, sprawled on his back, his face ashen and scratched and white hair messy. Slowly, Mr. Lancer approached him. It seemed he was passed out, unresponsive. If he wasn’t a ghost he’d think he was-

There was never a chance to finish the thought.

Suddenly, a white and blue light enveloped the ghost boy, and when it was gone Mr. Lancer could hardly believe his eyes.

_“Flowers for Algernon,”_ He swore softly, shocked, unable to process what was in front of him.

There, out cold where the ghost boy had been not two seconds before, lay Danny Fenton. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conservation between two unlikely friends, and the confession only one wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A reversible isothermal heat transfer that would leave the entropy of the universe constant is just an idealization - and hence could not occur. All other processes - meaning, all real processes - have the effect of increasing the entropy of the universe. That is the second law of thermodynamics." Entropy and the Second Law of Thermodynamics: How the universe works

Danny woke up, but didn’t open his eyes right away. Everything hurt. Why? It was like his insides had been deep-frozen and then microwaved, his head stuffed with cotton and beaten like a drum. Then he remembered, _Cain_ , and sat bolt upright, blood rushing down through him, making him feel worse.

He scanned his surroundings. He had no idea where he was, how long he’s been out, or what was happening. His breathing sped up and heart rate increased. Every instinct told him to run and he was going to, but then he heard someone.

“Mr. Fen- Danny. You are perfectly safe. This is my living room, in my house, and whatever hurt you isn’t able to anymore.”

Danny recognized the voice and turned towards it, but still was surprised to discover its source.  Sitting in a recliner diagonal from the couch where he was laying sat…Mr. Lancer?

Danny did a mental double take. This was his house? Like, he was somehow now sitting on Mr. Lancer’s couch?

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d be out so I thought it would be best to take you somewhere safe. That was about 4 hours ago.”

Danny didn’t know how to respond to that, so he said something really intelligent along the lines of “umm, sure?”

“Now Danny,” Mr. Lancer began again, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs, “I don’t need or want any explanation. You are under no obligation to tell me anything, and if you’d like I can just pretend none of this ever happened. I just need you to tell me one thing, and I need to be honest. Please.”

A wave of realization washed over Danny. During the fight, Cain had used that weapon again, the one that zapped his strength and shorted out his powers. And then Mr. Lancer had found him. But- oh no, no, no- Mr. Lancer hadn’t found Danny Fenton. No. He had found Danny Phantom, only to witness him transform back into his human half, back into his former student. Mr. Lancer knew.

What he didn’t know, seeing as he had been out cold, was how Mr. Lancer reacted. He didn’t see the concern on his face or the realization that swept through him. Finding the ghost boy there on the ground only to see him turn into his student had scared him at first but not enough to overshadow the fact that clearly the boy needed help. As he scooped the boy’s body up into his arms and carefully placed him in the back of his car it was as if a light bulb went off. And the longer Danny lay on his couch the more Mr. Lancer realized the absolute truth behind what he had witnessed today. Danny Fenton truly was the Ghost Boy, and had been for some time. Sure, it was a bit of a shock and he couldn’t help but look at him in a slightly different way, but that didn’t matter for the moment. What mattered now was that he was safe.

But Mr. Lancer had also realized something else, something he would much rather not think as being possible, but something he had to address none the less. He had learned the hard way through his years working with adolescents that often times problems could be traced back to parents, and that sometimes the loving Mom and Dad that came to parent teacher conferences were a far cry from the truth at home.

“Did your parents do this to you?” Mr. Lancer asked, his face deadly serious.

The question caught Danny off guard. Blinking, he said, “No. It wasn’t…it wasn’t my parents. They have nothing to do with it.”

Relief washed over Mr. Lancer’s face as he nodded, accepting Danny’s answer. The tension in his shoulders and face visibly decreased and his features appeared to soften. A moment passed filled with nothing but an oddly peaceful silence.

“Do you know why I teach High School English, Danny?” Mr. Lancer asked.

Danny shook his head no, and Mr. Lancer continued.

“Thermodynamics states that the universe tends towards disorder, towards chaos. Inside that chaos there are people. People with lives and jobs and families and beliefs trying to create order despite the universe itself working against them. And every day in an attempt to stall the ever increasing disorder they make choices, mostly little things like what kind of cereal to buy or shampoo to use. But sometimes they find they need to make a choice regarding something much larger, a choice that will not only impact them but all those around them- their families, their friends, their peers. If they make the wrong choice the universal chaos advances not just on them but on those around them as well, and it is in many ways too late. The chaos can, with great effort, be amended but it may never be truly undone. And the only thing you can do is live with the choice you made as well as you possibly can. That is why I teach high school English, Danny.

 You all are just coming to realize the chaos in the world and are beginning to be faced with the choices that affect those you care about in ways you might not see. And if I can teach you things that help you make those choices, even if you don’t realize where the help came from, then I will. If I can recommend to you a book where a character wrestles with a choice you may one-day face if only to show you that you are not alone, I will. Books and stories all exist for a reason, Danny. The ones we love and cherish all hold truths and lessons and examples. It is my goal to introduce you to those truths so that when you one day face a choice that will change lives beyond your own, a choice that will increase or halt the ever-growing chaos of the universe, you will be best equipped to make that choice. And, if the wrong choice is made, to guide them in dealing with the consequences.

 

Now, stay there, rest. I am going to go get you something to drink and a snack.”

 

Mr. Lancer rose from his chair and left through a door that Danny assumed must go to the kitchen. Danny sat and considered what Mr. Lancer had said. _The universe tends towards disorder._ Well, that was believable. All you had to do was talk to a high school or college student and they would tell you how well that fit their lives. He also thought about what he’d said about choices, and how our choices impacted other people. Danny needed a reminder of that sometimes.

As he sat and thought he looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. It should have felt strange, sitting in his teacher’s house, but it didn’t. It felt, well, it felt safe. Everything looked soft and used, but still well kept. There was the recliner Mr. Lancer had been in and the maroon couch where Danny now lay. In front of him there was a TV sitting on a table that matched the couch. A coffee table sat in the middle of the room with a stack of well-worn books on it. George Orwell’s _1984,_ _The Color Purple_ by Alice Walker, _Still Life With Tornado_ by A.S. King, _The Truth About Alice_ by Jennifer Mathieu. Each one had creases in its spine and folds on its pages. Then on the wall there were pictures of different people and different places. Beaches, parks, forests, cities. Only after the fact did Danny realize that some were of a younger Mr. Lancer with his family.

There was also a wedding portrait. A younger (yet still bald) Mr. Lancer in a black suit holding a very pretty woman in a white dress. It looked as if he had picked her up to swing her around, the photographer capturing them at the perfect moment. He hadn’t even realized Mr. Lancer was married, hadn’t really considered that he was human with a life and a story outside the walls of Casper High.  There was another picture of the pair on the end table next to him. Mr. Lancer and the mystery woman (Mrs. Lancer? He wondered) standing arm and arm, smiling. Behind them stood the skyline of some city. Chicago, maybe.

“That was a fun trip,” Mr. Lancer said as he entered the room. “Lillian and I went to see the Chicago Bears play football and to explore all the museums. We even got some real Chicago-style pizza. She’s out all day at a workshop today. Anyways, here you go.” He gave Danny a mug, its contents steaming, and a plate with some cookies and mixed nuts. “It’s hot apple cider in the mug, if that’s alright. I figured it would be good to get some sugar back in your blood.”

“That’s…that’s great. Thank you,” Danny accepted the mug and plate and took a small sip. It made his insides feel warm and took the edge off the ache in his bones. For a minute he sat and just focused on the cider and taking the occasional bite of a cookie or almond. Mr. Lancer got up and returned with a stack of papers and, sitting down in the recliner, began to look through them.

Danny took a deep breath and began talking. “Three years ago, when I was 14, there was an accident-”

“Danny,” Mr. Lancer interrupted. He sat up and looked Danny straight on, “I meant what I said. You do not have to tell me anything at all. You owe me nothing.”

“Yeah, but…” Danny considered that for a moment. Then he realized, “But I think I want to tell you. I want to explain.”

And he did. It had been three years since the accident, three years of being a superhero. He had seen so much, done so much. Felt so much. Some days he couldn’t take it anymore, the weight of who he was and what he had done or failed to do. And, now that Jasmin had left for college, there was one less person to go to on those awful days. He did want to tell Mr. Lancer. He _needed_ to tell Mr. Lancer.

“Well then, Danny. If you’re sure.”

Danny began again. “Three years ago, when I was 14, there was an accident. My parents had just unveiled their ghost portal in time to try it and report on it at this ghost hunters’ convention, but it didn’t work. So they left for the weekend and I decided that I wanted to take a look around, see if I could figure out what went wrong. I didn’t think I really could but when it didn’t work my parents just seemed so…heartbroken. They had worked so hard on this thing.

So I suited up and went inside. I walked the length of this thing and didn’t see anything out of place. Then, once I got towards the far back wall I saw this button thing. Eventually I found out that it was, like, a safety stop. It was essentially the last little protection against having this thing start up while you were in there, I really don’t even know why they thought it was necessary but my parents put it there and I guess forgot to switch it to “on.” But I didn’t know any of this at the time, so I just saw a big button that said “on” and I hit it.

And that’s when I died.

Except I didn’t. Or, I did but just in the worst place at the worst time, I don’t really know. I hit the button, the portal activated, and the energy released from ripping a hole from our dimension into the ghost zone killed me. Except when it killed me…well, as far as I’ve been able to figure, I most definitely did die that day. But I died in a strange and only instantaneously existing gap between our human dimension and the Ghost Zone, and whatever happened in that moment between the dimensions saved me. Or, depending on how you see it, destroyed me. I’m still not sure which one I agree with. Every part of me was rewritten. Each strand of DNA was untwisted and scrambled before being shoved back together.

And when I woke up back in this world, I was different. My hair was white and my eyes were green. My senses were in hyper drive and there was a deep feeling of cold that I just couldn’t chase away. Then I was myself again, or at least I looked like myself again. My senses seemed to have muted some and the cold lessened, but it was still there. Pretty quick I figured out- I was a ghost, or at least some unholy teenager-ghost hybrid. I realized that whatever had happened in that portal made me something not possible. I was Schrödinger's boy, both alive and dead in the same instant, both a ghost and a human.

So, with time, I learned how to understand the ghost part of me. Except I still don’t know everything about what I am or what I can do but I still try to take what I do know and use it. Try to do some good. Once the portal became active ghosts started entering Amity Park more and more. If one wasn’t friendly I would get rid of it. I still do, almost every night. It sucks sometimes but there’s no way to unmake what I became that day, so I just do what I’ve always done: try my best. A lot of the time it’s not enough, but every so often it is. And that’s all I can do.”

 

Mr. Lancer sat and considered everything the boy had just told him. It really did explain a lot, he thought. Things like his sudden personality shift freshman year, why he was always tired, and the lack of focus on his school work seemed to make perfect sense. The fact that he’d even been able to handle that happening and still try to live a normal looking life was the most amazing of all.

“Do your parents know?”

“No,” Danny responded, shaking his head.

“Does anybody know?”

“Sam and Tucker know. They were there when it happened, and stayed by my side afterwards. And Jasmin, she knows too,” Danny said, a touch of sadness in his voice at the mention of his sister’s name. She was one of Danny’s few confidants, and he missed her.

“Mr. Lancer?” Danny asked.

“Yes?”

“Earlier, why did you ask me if my parents did this?”

Mr. Lancer considered the question for a moment before answering. “Well, I suppose for the same reason I teach high school English. Because in the chaos of life we should remember that our choices affect other people, and if someone is purposefully making choices that will harm another person, then I will choose to be there for that person and if need be help the escape the chaos that was forced into their life.”

“Oh,” Danny responded. He understood. Or at least he thought he did. “Thank you.”

Mr. Lancer simply smiled in response.

About an hour later Danny had finished his cider and the snacks and decided it was time to head home. He had also told Mr. Lancer just about everything. His different powers, how he learned to use them. He told him about the adventures he and his friends had had exploring the seemingly endless Ghost Zone and all the friends and enemies they made along the way.  After about forty-five minutes and a story about a close call with his parents he realized he’d been gone all day. If he didn’t get back soon there would be questions that he wouldn’t have an answer to. So, he got into the passenger seat of Mr. Lancer’s care and he drove him home. When they pulled up in front of the Fenton Works building Danny unbuckled and got out. Before closing the car door behind him, he turned to face his teacher.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Lancer? Thanks. For everything.”  
“Danny, any opportunity to help a student is my pleasure.”

Smiling, Danny closed the door and walked the pathway to his house. After making sure he got in okay, Mr. Lancer pulled away and began his drive home. He was tired emotionally and mentally after everything Danny had told him, but no less amazed at the boy’s resilience and determination. Now he just wanted to go home to see his wife, exchange stories about their days. He knew he could never tell her the specifics, but she would be okay with that. All he really needed to tell her was that from this point on today would be the anniversary of the Worst Saturday Detention Ever.

 

* * *

 

 

The following Monday Danny was sitting in Mrs. Hall’s pre-calculus class when one of the office aides entered the room.

“Note for Danny Fenton?” The aid asked.

Danny got up and received the note. It was a hall pass. He looked towards Mrs. Hall for permission to leave and she waved him out the door. Once out of the room he opened the pass. In addition to the standard hall pass it had a simple hand-written note.

_Assistance needed, west side school yard._

_~L.L._

Danny put the note in his pocket, made sure he was alone, and transformed, flying off to see what it could possibly be this time.

 

Meanwhile, in Mr. Lancer’s freshman English class the students gathered near the window, distracted by yelling coming outside.

“Beware!” The ghost yelled, “I am the Box Ghost! Fear Me!”

And, despite his interrupted lesson, Mr. Lancer couldn’t help but watch, smiling as the ever mysterious ghost boy flew past his window in pursuit of the Box Ghost.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Like/comment if you can!


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